James Chase: Miss Shumway Waves a Wand

“I’m that kind of a guy,” I said desperately. “I go for dummies in a big way.”

The red-head said, “There’s something about that old model. It’s trying to fly away.” Clancy looked at her suspiciously. “What do you mean… fly away?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But that’s what it’s trying to do.”

“Pay no attention to her, Clancy,” I said quickly. “She’s not herself to-day.”

Clancy looked at me and then he looked at Myra. “So that’s it,” he said between his teeth.

“I might have known it. So that’s where she’s hiding,” and before I could stop him he’d whipped off Myra’s hat.

Myra didn’t blink an eye-lash. She just stood there, her eyes blank and her body rigid. Clancy stared at her. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s her all right. You can cut that dummy act out. You’re under arrest,” he went on to Myra.

I took my hand from Myra’s shoulder and stepped back. As Clancy moved forward to grab her she floated out of his reach. Still keeping her stiff pose, she rose about ten feet in the air.

It certainly upset Clancy. He closed his eyes.

“Gawd!” he said. “What a horrible sight!”

“What’s worrying you?” I asked. “Haven’t you heard of the new lighter-than-air models? It helps solve the transportation problems,” and I patted him on the back.

“Never mind about the transportation problems,” he said, looking at Myra from between his fingers. “I’ve got my own problems to worry about just now.”

Then Whisky wandered into the shop.

In the general confusion no one noticed his entrance. The saleswomen were screaming, while the shop manager had collapsed on the floor and was jerking feebly at his collar. The cops just stood rooted, staring at Myra in horror.

To make matters worse, the red-head had thrown her arms round my neck and was screaming wildly in my ear.

It was a pretty good time for Whisky’s entrance. He came straight over to me. “You haven’t been long getting yourself fixed up,” he said approvingly. “That’s quite a pretty trill you’ve got there.”

The effect of this speech was electrifying. The red-head gave a stifled moan and slid to the floor in a faint. Clancy backed away, his face like a flour bag, while everyone else in the room stopped making noises and clutched one another.

“And now do you believe my story about talking dogs and floating women?” I said to Clancy. “It’s all here for you to see.”

“I’ll believe anything,” Clancy said, shivering. “This is too much for me. You’ve all got to see the captain.”

Whisky peered into the red-heed’s face “Odd how these dames pass out, isn’t it?” he said and began to lick her face energetically.

I caught him a quick kick where it’d do him the most good. He gave a startled curse and removed his tail hurriedly.

“Leave her alone,” I said sternly. “Besides, all that make-up might poison you.”

“As a matter of fact,” Whisky said with a leer, “it was extraordinarily tasty. But apart from that, I was just trying to revive her.”

“She doesn’t need reviving,” I returned. “She’s happier the way she is.”

“Can’t you stop him?” Clancy pleaded, gaping at Whisky as if he was some monster. “I can’t stand any more of this.”

Myra swooped past me. “What do we do now?” she asked. “Shall I run away?”

“No,” I said. “We can’t go on like this. We’ll all go along to Summers and let him sort everything out.”

She settled lower and then stretched out within my grasp. I pulled her to me and kissed her.

“It’ll be all right,” I promised. “They’ll have to listen to reason.”

Clancy tried to pull himself together. “Can’t you persuade that dame to stand on her feet?” he pleaded. “It’s doing me no good at all seeing her that way.”

Myra frowned at him. “I’m not considering you,” she said. “You’ve never done anything for me.”

“You remain like that,” I urged. “The more people who see you like that the more witnesses we’ll have. Let’s go, sweetheart.”

I took her by her shoulders and began pushing her towards the door.

It must have been a pretty upsetting sight. Myra lay full length, suspended in the air, with her hands folded across her chest. It was like pushing a perambulator that hadn’t any wheels.

Whisky fell in step beside me. “Going through the streets like that, old pal?” he asked.

“That’s the idea,” I said firmly, leaving Myra in mid-air while I opened the shop door.

“Hey!” Clancy said, running up to me. “You can’t do a thing like that!”

“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” I said grimly.

He looked round desperately. “You guys!” he shouted to the cringing patrolmen. “Get these two into the wagon.”

The patrolmen hesitated and then approached us warily.

“I think we’re going to have a little trouble,” I said to Myra. She lowered her feet to the ground. “Leave this to me,” she said, her eyes snapping fire, “I’ve been very good up to now. If they’re going to be nasty then I’ll be nasty, too.”

Now she was on the ground, the patrolmen seemed to regain some of their courage. They came towards us in a body.

Myra flickered her fingers at them and they suddenly paused. “It’s beginning to rain,” one of them said uneasily.

“What are you talking about?” Clancy snarled. “It doesn’t matter if it rains! Arrest that woman!”

A big Irish cop extended his hand and then went a little pale.

“Holy Moses!” he said in a strangled voice. “It’s raining in here!”

I thought Clancy would go out of his mind. “It don’t rain indoors, you punk!” he stormed.

“I’ll tear that badge off your coat if you don’t do what I tell you!”

Myra flicked her fingers in his direction and almost immediately he stiffened. “Gawd!” he said looking up at the ceiling. “It is raining!”

“Didn’t I tell you,” the Irish cop said feverishly. “I think I’ll get out of here.”

This intrigued me. Over each patrolman and Clancy I could see a light sprinkle of water falling. It didn’t come from the ceiling but seemed to start a few feet above them.

As they moved uneasily the shower of water followed them. It was the damnedest thing I’d ever seen.

“Are you doing this?” I whispered to Myra.

“Certainly,” she said. “Didn’t you know I could make rain? It’s an old Naguale custom.” She suddenly spied the red-head who was sitting up in a dazed kind of way. “And a little rain might improve that young woman’s complexion,” she went on grimly.

She flicked her fingers in the red-head’s direction.

There was no question of a sprinkle of water this time. It began to rain in torrents. The redhead screamed wildly and getting to her feet, she dashed round the room. The narrow ribbon of pouring water followed her ruthlessly. In a few seconds she was soaked to the skin.

“I think that will do,” Myra said, looking pleased. “She’s not nearly so attractive, is she?” Right now the red-head looked like something that’d got lost in a river.

“You’re right,” I said, wondering if I was losing my mind. Myra flicked her fingers and the rain stopped.

The cops and Clancy began mopping themselves with their handkerchiefs. The red-head lay on the floor and drummed hysterically with her heels.

“If there’s any more talk about wagons,” Myra said coldly, “it’ll begin raining again.”

“Do what you like, lady,” Clancy said brokenly. “I ain’t making trouble.”

Myra resumed her suspended position. “Push me through the streets,” she said to me. “All the way to police headquarters. Then we’ll have lots of witnesses, won’t we?”